The Mixtape

“I figured that was it. I get that . . . but . . . and I don’t mean to be offensive or anything, but I feel like that could be a bit of a gift. You know? To see your brother every time you look into your own eyes. It’s as if a piece of him gets to keep living on within you.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“Yeah. Maybe that’s stupid. That’s just how my mind works, though.”

“I like how your mind works.”

A slight squeeze to her hands.

She tilted her head and didn’t break our stare. “Okay, now your question.”

“Does Reese not know her father? Is he not in the picture anymore?”

Within seconds, Emery sat up straighter, and a somber look found her eyes. Her hands slipped away from mine, and I realized that maybe that was the one question I shouldn’t have asked about.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no. It’s fine. I did say any question,” she laughed. “That came back to slap me in the face.”

“You don’t have to answer.”

“No. It’s fine. I just don’t talk about it a lot, so it’s hard. But, no. She doesn’t know her father. I don’t know him, either. I have no clue who he is.”

My chest tightened as I narrowed my eyes. “Was it a one-night stand or something?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, I’ve never met him. I have no clue who he is, what he looks like, or anything about him.”

How was that possible? What was I missing?

Emery must’ve seen the confusion in my eyes, since she gave me the saddest frown she’d ever produced. “Reese isn’t my biological child. She’s my sister’s.”

23

EMERY

Five Years Ago

They were going to disown her before she even parted her lips. I knew that the moment Sammie told me about her pregnancy. She knew it too. That was the truth about who our parents were. They set their judgmental opinions down before they offered compassion, no matter what. Theo and Harper Taylor weren’t millennials, by any means, but they were well versed in cancel culture. They’d canceled my aunt Judy for getting a divorce. They shunned the gospel choir director for having photographs online of herself at a Drake concert.

They’d belittle children who celebrated Halloween.

I’d never met two souls who placed judgment like they placed prayers—every morning and night.

Sammie’s hands weren’t shaking, because she was frozen still as I sat beside her on the sofa in Mama and Dad’s living room. I’d gone off to college two years before and had felt a heavy amount of conflicted emotions the day I left home to attend a culinary school in Los Angeles. I cried two sets of tears the first night I’d stayed in my dorm room. First, tears of relief from the fact that Mama couldn’t place her words of disappointment over me every single day for random reasons, and Dad couldn’t hold his hand of disapproval up in front of my face.

The second set of tears I shed were for Sammie. She was left alone with our parents now, with no safe haven to escape to when she needed to hide away. In the past when our parents were too harsh, Sammie would sneak into my bedroom and we’d listen to music on my laptop, sharing earbuds. Mama didn’t like when we listened to anything other than gospel music—so we always made sure to listen at night, when our parents were fast asleep.

Our current favorite artists were Alex & Oliver. They were soul music mixed with pop with not a drop of clichés. Sure, they only had two albums out, but those albums were the cure to every broken piece of our hearts.

I didn’t know what my sister would go through without me being home with her. Unlike me, Sammie was sensitive. While our parents’ judgments didn’t affect me, because I had thick skin, I knew how their words slithered beneath my sister’s skin, infecting her thoughts and mind.

From a young age, I’d understood how thoughts created outcomes, so I tried my best to keep my mind clear. Sammie wasn’t like that, though. She cared so much about what people thought of her. She was a people pleaser through and through, doing anything and everything to be loved by the world—mostly by our parents.

The worst part was that she craved love and acceptance from two people who were unable to give her what she was looking for. My parents were two narcissists who hid their true, heartless colors behind their religion. They strove with their religious beliefs to condemn people, instead of showing them love.

Dad’s face was grim after Sammie spoke her truths to him and Mama. My little sister had come to me first when everything unfolded. She called me to her side, and I drove all the way from California back to Oregon to help her during her storms.